 This is your FBI. This is your FBI. An official broadcast from the files of the Federal Bureau of Investigation presented as a public service by the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States. To your FBI, you look for national security and to the Equitable Society for Financial Security. These two great institutions are dedicated to the protection of you, your home, and your country. Tonight, the story of a crime against the home. Kidnapping. Just as it takes a special type of criminal to become a Hitler, so it takes a special type to become a kidnapper. Someone who refuses to face the fact that eventually all kidnappers and those who aid them will be hunted down by the FBI until they are dead or brought to justice. Such criminals aren't born, they're made. Created by environment, by society, by circumstance. And in one case, a kidnapper was created by something else too. By his wife. Sally. Hmm? Ain't that enough for today? No. That last round was perfect. No, Frank. I'm tired. Then rest for a minute. And dragging me out here every day for two weeks. I'm a good enough shot. For small time holdups maybe. That bank job was no... You don't have to tell me about that bank job, Frank. That was my idea. Just like everything's been my idea. Okay. It's all yours, take the gun too. Darling, darling. You know I didn't mean it that way. You know I plan everything just for you. Besides, I couldn't do it all myself. If you could, you would. Don't be silly. I don't know what the point of all this target practice is anyway. It's going to give you a reputation. With two stretches behind me, I've got one. Like a hundred others. But you're going to be bigger. Bigger than all of them. Bigger? Yes. What's the point of being anything if you can't be the biggest, the best? If you can't be number one. And that's what we're going to be, Frank. Number one. You're crazy. Wait and see. Look. A couple more bank jobs and we can be driving on gasoline for the rest of our lives. That's what my father must have said to my mother. And what were they? Petty crooks. Now they have to live on what I hand out to them. No, darling. We're going to do it right. One real job. And then we quit. What one real job? Never mind. Come on. When we're ready, I'll tell you. Sally. Darling, have I ever given you a bomb steer? Well, have I? No, but... Now empty both barrels like a good boy. And we'll call it quits for today. Professional criminals don't work alone. They help each other. They're the most successful of those who get the most help. And they get it through their reputations in the crime world. Sally Hadley learned this the way most people learn things through experience. She made her husband an expert with a sawed-off shotgun. And then she made herself his press agent. She gave him a name, Shotgun Hadley. She passed out shelves as souvenirs. She planned robberies and hold-ups. Saw that he carried them out perfectly. She built up his reputation. And then she was ready. Ready for really big game. Ready for that hot Saturday night in July when an Oklahoma millionaire named Walter Montgomery was playing cards on the screen porch of his home with his wife and his best friend. There's no point in playing with you, Henry. You always win. You and Walter just let me win because I'm your guest, right, Walter? I'm sorry, what'd you say, Henry? Oh, Walt. I thought I heard a car stop down below. You always think you hear something nobody else does. How about another hand? Not for me. Me either. I'm about ready for bed. Oh, why don't you... Sit down and keep quiet. What are you... Sit down. The shotgun works. Which one of you is Walter Montgomery? What do you want to know? Never mind. Which one of you is Montgomery? Which one of them is your husband, lady? Okay, I'll take both of them. But you can't... Shut up! Come on on your feet, boys. We're going for a little drive. If you want to see your husband again, stay away from the phone, Mrs. Montgomery. I told you the shotgun works. One hour later, a blue sedan stopped at an intersection 12 miles from Oklahoma City. A man was shoved out and his empty wallet's thrown after him. Then the car continued on its way with Walter Montgomery blindfolded on the back seat. Just about that time, Mrs. Montgomery was putting through a long-distance call. She knew kidnapping was a federal offence, and following the Attorney General's advice to the public, she telephoned Mr. J. Edgar Hoover in Washington. And less than 45 minutes special agents assigned by Mr. Hoover were on their way. They took no immediate action. Not even four days later when Mrs. Montgomery received a typewritten letter. The first of a series of letters. The first of a series of ransom notes. There was this note from my husband enclosed in the letter. Are you sure that's his handwriting, Mrs. Montgomery? Yes. He said to give them the $200,000. Well, he certainly said a high price. Did they give you instructions how to pay? Well, the letter says to watch for an ad in the paper. And then take an ad yourself? Yes. Then it told you not to notify the police. Yes. Not to take down the serial number of the bills and have only used $20 notes. How did you know? We haven't been reading your mail. It's just that kidnapping notes always follow the same pattern. Who do they want as the intermediary to deliver the money? Henry, Mr. Carroll. He's my husband's best friend. Well, if they put that ad in the paper tomorrow and you answer immediately, your husband should be back on the first of next week. Unless something happens. What do you mean? Mr. Schuyler. Yes. I want to cooperate with the government. I know kidnappers are the worst kind of criminals. But you see, I, well, I want my husband back. Please don't do anything. Mrs. Montgomery, there's no need for you to worry. The first concern of the FBI in any kidnapping case is to get the victim home safely. We want to see your husband back here as much as you do. And we won't make one single move that will stand in the way of his coming back. Thank you. Three days later, arrangements were made to have a satchel containing $200,000 thrown from the observation platform of a speeding train at a certain spot in Oklahoma. Although no one knew it, the serial number of every bill was taken down and listed. And nine days after he was kidnapped, Walter Montgomery came home to his wife. He hadn't had much sleep. He was very tired, but he was safe. He was alive. He was home. As soon as he'd recovered from the shock and rested, he was interviewed by the FBI. Hello, Mr. Montgomery. Yes. What was the last thing you saw before being blindfolded? Why, a lot of lights must have been some kind of plant. Well, there was a power plant near where they dropped Mr. Carroll. It could have been a power plant. All right. Now, on the way to the house, did you hear anything? Well, one or two cars passed us, but... Oh, yes. We must have passed an oil field. Why? I heard the sound of the pumps, and twice I remember smelling gas. Then you passed two oil fields. That's right. Now, how long after you passed that second field would you guess it was before you got to the house? Oh, I don't know for sure. Not long, though. 15 minutes? Yes, I think about 10, say. Good. Now, did the car drive right up to the house, or did they stop for anything? They stopped to open a gate. How do you know? I heard a creak. And then they drove right up to the house? No, they drove into some kind of a building. A barn, it must have been, because I could smell hay. Well, then the house is probably a farmhouse. Yes. Yes. Was it close to the barn? It was exactly 12 steps away. I counted them. Glad you did. Now tell me, did you have to go up any steps to the house? Three. And they creaked. What happened when you got inside? Well, they put cotton in my ears and taped it over with adhesives so I couldn't hear what they said. But every morning I could hear a rooster crow, and then about less than a minute afterwards, the sound of an airplane passing over the house. An airplane? Did you hear it every day? Yes. No, one day it didn't come. Which day? Well, I don't know. But it rained that day. That was Sunday. That's the only day it rained while you were away. And that's the only day you didn't hear the airplane. That's right. I don't know whether this is of any aid to you. At the time, I knew I should try to remember everything that happened so I could be of assistance. Mr. Montgomery, I think you've practically drawn us a map right to that farmhouse. For the FBI, anything can be a clue. The lights on a power plant, the smell of an oil field, the sound of an airplane. Using the information gotten from Mr. Montgomery, special agents mapped a circle, a ring around the approximate location of the farmhouse. They went to the airlines, checked schedules, checked flights, checked what line did not run a plane on that one Sunday. They figured over approximately what area the early morning flight passed, and the ring around the farmhouse grew smaller, tighter, closer. Now the FBI agents moved into the ring looking for the farmhouse. Looking for a farmhouse with a gate wide enough for a car to pass through. A farmhouse with a barn only 12 steps away. 12 steps away from a porch with three creaking stairs. I'm sorry, I didn't know there was anyone home. Well, you can see I'm home, can't you? Yes. What do you want? I'm representing a real estate company in Tulsa. We're looking over farms in this neighborhood with a view to buying them. You want to buy this farm? Does it belong to you? Well, it belongs to my daughter, Mrs. Hadley. Sally Hadley? Yes. You know her? I've heard of her. Oh, she was going to give me the place anyways now. Mm-hmm. You want to buy it? Well, looks like the right place to me. But I'll have to have some of the men in my company look it over this afternoon if it's all right with you. Oh, it's fine with me. You'll be here. I'll be here as long as I can count on seeing you later. Oh, don't worry. You can count on seeing me. Definitely. We momentarily closed the Federal Bureau of Investigation file of the case of Shotgun Hadley. We will return to this case in just a moment. In pioneer days, Americans looked to their neighbors for security. When Mrs. Brown was sick of bed, neighboring wives came over to help out. If her husband died, neighbors saw to it that she and her children had clothes, food, and shelter. But as the nation grew in population, as life became more complex, this neighborly security was no longer sufficient. To take its place in the year 1859, a group of Americans founded the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States. Today, it has grown into a strong mutual organization in which each member enjoys the advantages of association with 3,200,000 good neighbors who have pooled their dollars to protect each other. The Equitable Management then puts these dollars to work in ways that benefit the entire nation. Equitable funds encourage home ownership. They lend the farmer a helping hand. They finance great industries on which our prosperity depends. So is it not right and proper to speak of life insurance funds as one of democracy's greatest assets? By serving its members, the Equitable serves America. And now, back to the file on shotgun Hadley, kidnapper. Small things, but enough for the FBI special agents to move swiftly on the trail of the kidnappers. The parents of Sally Hadley were arrested and jailed. Throughout the nation, the FBI sent a list of the serial numbers on the ransom money, sent a description of the kidnapper, sent the call, fine shotgun Hadley. To the FBI, Frank Hadley was another criminal who had to be caught. To the nation, he was public enemy number one. To his wife, with whom he shared a hotel suite in St. Louis, shotgun Hadley was a frightened fool. We don't have to get out of here. Now sit down and cool off, darling. Darling, they've got the serial numbers of this dough. Shall I mix you another drink, too? They've picked up some of the bills already. Frank, will you sit down and relax? Sure. Sit down and wait for them to clap us in jail along with your mother and father. They're not going to put us in jail because they're not going to catch us. They will if we don't get on the move. We'll move. But there's something we've got to do first. What? Sit down. What for? Come on. That's it, darling. Now you're going to write a letter. A letter? Hm? Here's a pen and paper. Just write what I tell you. Who's it to? Just write what I tell you. Dear Mr. Hoover. What? Are you going? Go on. Dear Mr. Hoover. While you and your men are knocking yourselves out. How do you know that? No, change that to wearing yourselves out. I am living on the fat of the land. Go on, darling. Wait a minute. What's the rest of this going to say? Oh, it's going to say that he'll never catch you because you're too good for him. What? You did this alone all by yourself without anyone's help. And you did. What are you trying to do, tie a noose around my neck? Frank, he's got my poor mother and father in jail and I've got to get them out. By having me confess? Look, he knows you did it anyway. This will just clear my folks and show him that you're not afraid of anyone. It'll just put me in jail instead of them. Oh, really? Afraid of your own shadow, aren't you, darling? Shall we listen, fuck? You listen to me. Now, when I married you, I thought you were a man. I thought you were a man who could be the number one boy in this country. I thought you had guts. Sally, I... What are you afraid of? You are number one now. You've got to show them that. You've got to show them that they are the ones to be afraid. You've got to show them that you're too big to touch. Because you are, Frank. You are. Sally, look, if we mail the letter from here... We're not going to. I'm going to send it to a friend of mine in Chicago and have her mail it from there. When they get it, they'll see how big you are. They'll see you don't care. Yeah. Yeah, sure. And then tomorrow, we're going to buy another car and before they even have a chance to look at the bills, we'll be on our way. Okay, okay, honey, okay. You just don't realize what a big man you've become. Now, what have you written? Dear Mr. Hoover, while you and your men are... Wait. Wait, I've got a wonderful idea. An idea that will top the whole thing off. What now? Hoover may think the letter is from some crank, but you know what you're going to do. You're going to put your fingerprints on it, darling. What? You're going to prove this is straight from shotgun Hadley. From Chicago, from Dallas, from Denver, from cities all over the West come letters to the FBI. And as the letters turn up, money turns up to ransom money. $20 bills reported by alert citizens to the FBI. $20 bills had put the FBI closer on the trail of Frank and Sally Hadley. But Sally Hadley has gotten impatient. Leaving her husband in a small house named Memphis, she buys a cheap gingham dress, a red wig, and a second-hand car. And with complete unconcern, drives right back to Oklahoma. On the way, she gives a lift to two hitchhikers, a man and his eight-year-old daughter. I guess your little girl isn't asleep, Mr. Butler. Yeah. She was awful tired. Of course she was. Well, we'll get her a good dinner as soon as we get to town. You've been so nice. I couldn't let you do anything else first, ma'am. Oh, don't be silly. I want to. Besides, she reminds me of my own little girl. Oh, do you have one? Yes, by my first husband. He died poor man, and Frank, that's my second husband. He won't let my little baby live with us. Oh, that's terrible. Well, he isn't a very nice man. Mr. Butler, can I trust you? Of course. I'm in terrible trouble, and I've got to speak to somebody. I've just got to get help from someone. Ma'am, if there's anything at all I can do... Well, maybe you won't say that when you know the truth. I'm Sally Hadley, and my husband is Shotgun Hadley. The kidnapper? Yes. I didn't know what kind of a man he was, but I married him. Well, it's a little too late for that now, isn't it? But he's done terrible things to me, too. To my little girl, to my family. Oh. Because of him, my poor mother and father are in jail now. Mr. Butler, I just got to get them out. But the papers... I know, I know, but anything my father and mother did, he made them do at the point of that Shotgun of his. Will you do me a favor, please? Will you just go to Oklahoma City and see my lawyer for me? Sure. You see, I can't go because the police are looking for me, but I want him to get a message to the FBI for me. I want him to tell them that if they will leave my mother and father, I'll tell them where my husband is. I'll be glad to take your message, Mrs. Hadley. Only... Only what? Well, my little girl... Oh, don't worry about her. I'll keep her here with me. Why, she'll be as safe as my own little girl would be. Carla speaking. Oh, yes. No, not just yet. I'm trying to reach the Bureau in Washington. May I call you back in a few minutes? Fine. Goodbye. Mrs. Hadley's lawyer again. Pretty anxious for our answer, isn't he? Yes. You suppose he seriously thinks we're going to release the mother and father Skyler? I don't know. He's Sally Hadley. There's a sweet double-crosser for you. Ready to sell out her own husband. Now, if he's half as tough as his reputation, I don't blame him. I wonder if she was crazy enough to come back here to Oklahoma. She might be. We know she hasn't been to her lawyer's office. I don't think we can stall her much longer. We don't have to. He's covered by now, and as soon as we find Sally Hadley's intermediary, we'll find her. And her sharpshooting husband. Right. Will you get Mrs. Hadley's lawyer for me, please? Sally Hadley waiting in an auto camp outside Oklahoma City for the message from a lawyer gets frightened. And so Sally Hadley, with a little child as her protection, runs to her husband, who is now in Memphis. Meanwhile, special agents of the FBI located the man in Oklahoma City, the man who was Sally Hadley's intermediary, the man whose eight-year-old child is on her way to a gangster's hideout. Well, now we've got a little eight-year-old girl to worry about, Skylar. Yes. I just hope that had to woman of care. Hello. Skylar. You did? Or she when? Well, that's that. What? Where's she going? I don't know. Well, we'd better send her to the call for a woman driving with an eight-year-old girl. A woman with a red wig? Right. She's probably going back to her husband. That's my guess, too. And they'll probably try to move with her girl. Skylar speaking. Yes. Got it. Right. Right. That was Memphis. Oh. Two days ago, a second-hand car dealer down there brought in a flock of those $20 bills. And a man who sells wigs brought in another. I see. And at four o'clock this afternoon, a liquor dealer brought in another. Well, I guess I'd better phone my wife and tell her I won't be home for dinner again. Yes. I think we'll be having dinner in Memphis. At a quarter to four, one September morning, a little girl sat on the Memphis railroad station, a frightened little girl clutching a ticket that would take her back to her father. But a little girl who remembered that she had had supper in a frame house near the edge of the city and that she had seen a shotgun in that house. At 5.35, that same morning, agents of the FBI and local offices surrounded the frame house. They were armed with guns, with guns who battled against the murderous reputation of a man called Shotgun Hadley. It was just beginning to get light when two of them quietly entered the house. They stood for a moment in the dark room. To the left were two doors, two closed doors leading to two bedrooms, leading to Shotgun Hadley. They opened the first. Keep quiet. Who are you? Federal Bureau of Investigation. Federal... Listen, he's in there. Get him. He ruined my life. That was Sally Hadley, the woman who had planned the kidnapping. The woman who later tried unsuccessfully to convince a jury that she was innocent. The woman who cared no more for her husband than she did for his gun, but she had built up a tremendous reputation for him. And now as the FBI agents moved to the door of his bedroom, they checked their guns. They tried to anticipate the blast of that shotgun and then in a quick movement, they rushed the door to Frank Hadley. There was no battle, no fight, no shooting. Frank Hadley, kidnapper, Frank Shotgun Hadley, public enemy number one, stood against the wall, his hands raised high, his knees shaking. Don't shoot, G-men. Don't shoot. That was the beginning of the popular use of the phrase G-men. G-men meaning government men, meaning FBI agents. And that was the first and last time Frank or Sally Hadley tried a kidnapping. No kidnapper in this country has ever tried twice once the FBI has caught them. Because the FBI is the largest protective force in the world. You see, it doesn't consist only of a director and a Washington headquarters of field officers and special agents. It also consists of you and all those like you. In every case, it's the cooperation of the people which enables the FBI to find the criminal. And that is the way it should be. Because the FBI, like our government, is created by the people for the people. It is the people. Have you ever said to yourself, no, I can't possibly buy an extra war bond? Then you find yourself thinking of someone you know in the Army or Navy, your son, and you think, what are your sacrifices compared to his? And so somehow or other you find the money for that extra war bond. Remember the extra satisfaction you felt? Well, that's how members of the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States feel about the special campaign. There's all premium dollars received from new equitable policies written in April will be matched with an equal number of dollars by the equitable. We'll be buying total during the 7th war loan bond drive in May. Remember, these war bonds will be over purchases which amounted to the largest single subscription in both the 5th and 6th dollars. For you, your home. The incidents used in tonight's broadcast are taken from the files of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. However, all names used are fictitious and any similarity thereof to the names of persons living or dead is accidental. In tonight's cast, Sally was played by Leslie Woods and Hadley by Mandel Kramer. The music was under the direction of Van Cleave. The author was Lawrence MacArthur and your narrator was Frank Lovejoy. This is your FBI is a Jerry Divine production. This is Carl Frank speaking for the Equitable Life Assurance Society of the United States and inviting you to tune in again next week at this same time for this is your FBI. This is the Blue Network of the American Broadcasting Company.